Well, I am back from my regular Sydney visit where the inhabits are being slowly boiled alive by a surging population intended to convince everyone that Australia has not been in a per capita recession for a few years. As I sat through multiple traffic light cycles to make every single turn, I wondered if I could actually live in a city again. I don’t think so. It’s pretty grim. There is an awful lot of roadside trash and, unlike down here on the South Coast, no-one walks around with trash bags cleaning up. Someone else is responsible, I guess.
It’s good to know that, here in Australia, the lucky country, we rank lower than Senegal and Bangladesh on economic complexity. We are, and I quote “one of the least self-sufficient and sophisticated economies in the world.” That is the problem with natural resources, whether held by a country or an individual. It’s human nature to squander them. We don’t seem to properly appreciate anything we have not earned.
My Mum’s care home was in some sort of public health mandated semi-lockdown because Covid had been detected in the residence. This isn’t a surprise as they nasally and orally penetrate the residents on a regular basis engaging in tests for something that is mostly symptom free and can only be diagnosed with testing. My Mum is 92, almost 93. She has survived the Great Depression, World War II, bearing three children (and one miscarriage), strokes, heart attacks, the early death of her husband, Covid, and the great lock-downs of 2020. At this point, I think she is like a cockroach, nothing will kill her, not least a minor virus where the average age of death (even at it’s acme) exceeded the average age of death. That’s not a koan like what is the sound of one hand clapping. It is, in fact, evidence of the greatest mass hysteria perpetrated on the world for a century (or more).
Before I went in to visit her, I had to stick a popsicle stick up my nose for the ridiculous RAT test and wear a mask. Which, for a logical person such as myself, is more than a bit maddening. The horse, as the expression goes, has already bolted; Covid is alive and well in the facility. I wouldn’t mind these things so much if they weren’t so transparently ludicrous. A six year old child has the reasoning ability to see that this is performative nonsense.
Speaking of performative nonsense, the book you have to read if you want to understand woke is “We Have Never Been Woke,” by Musa al-Gharbi. It explains all the strange contradictions and, dare I say hypocrisy's that are evident among the people who drive the discourse in Australia today. The book covers everything from the left’s new thrilling obsession with multi-national pharmaceutical industries (who’ve never been known to engage in unethical behaviour!) to the endless bromidic land acknowledgements from people who have no inclination whatsoever of giving back their private property despite acknowledging they are on stolen land. How does that work? I embezzle several million dollars, acknowledge my fraud, then crack on with “living my best life” on the fraudulently obtained money. Sounds like a good gig actually.
Finally, I’ll close with what I should have opened with: a trigger warning. Don’t read this if you are easily offended. Otherwise, have a nice day.
